At the click of his fingers
by Herdcat
Summary: Set pre-series an arch angel gone demi-god contemplates his existance


Loki walked into the storage cupboard, not blinking as it expanded into a generously sized room. Just because he preferred to assume low status positions for his work, all the better to see the true faces of those he dealt with, did not mean he took no pleasure in luxury. Fortunately the magic of a demi-god was more than adequate to cater to even the most exotic of the needs he had developed in his millennia of walking the universe. And a couple of other whims thrown in just because he was you know, trickster. The leopard currently yawning in a gesture which showed off an impressive mouth of fangs was one of those. Loki smiled back at the creature, allowing a hint of his true nature to slip past his current carefree mask, and was satisfied with its hasty retreat. Sinking down into an arm chair which had not existed before he started to sit he thought over the events of the day.

So far he had to admit things were promising. It was a new town for one thing, and that meant fresh blood, or at least there would be. Whose and the manner of the spilling had yet to be established, but that was nothing new. Tricksters had a reputation for spontaneity, and Loki was the first to admit to an impulsive streak, but that didn't stop him savouring the hunt. He had in fact been known to delay the decision making process for years, during which he just waited, silent and unnoticed, observing everything. If immortality had a downside it was boredom and there was nothing like arranging the perfect tailored come-uppance to spice up a dull afternoon. It was that anticipation that carried him through the periods of boredom, well that and every flavour of hedonism he could think to indulge in. Absent mindedly Loki threw the leopard a cat treat, conjuring a chocolate bar for himself. He had just about exhausted the last town, burning through the worst culprits in a matter of days, with a prominent Mayor serving as the grand finale. Now that had been perfection, and he wouldn't mind admitting to it. He had devoted years to the moment, watching with a certain dark amusement as the man continued his policies of blackmail and exploitation, digging his grave to the last.

That was the other thing people failed to understand about Loki. It wasn't about the killing although that was always fun. But everybody died eventually the evil just as often as the good, indeed sometimes oftener. They tended to make enemies. And Loki had perspective. It wasn't about saving people either, although one of the justifications he would sometimes hurl when the mobs did come for him. Sure when he took out the abusers some would inevitably benefit, but that was rarely the motivation. It was not, had never been about upholding morality. In fact he tended to have the shortest temper when dealing with those who considered themselves overly righteous. Attitudes like that stirred unwelcome memories which could sour years as he sought to suppress them. No, woe betide the unfortunate mortal that brought back memories of certain stuck up relatives who could be a pain in the ass even after centuries of self enforced absence. Loki was through, through with that, and he had a nice shiny new (again a matter of perspective) identity which could not be further from the old if he had been departing from it on purpose (which he certainly had).

And this version of him did not particularly care about any fleeting moral code, or whether people kept to the letter or even the spirit of the law. Hell he had broken more important ones than most humans could hope to comprehend, and he had done it gleefully, and with only a trace of disappointment when no swift punishment materialised. (And perhaps that was his punishment, the knowledge that no one cared anymore, that even the most serious transgression had become meaningless) Or perhaps he had not broken the rules as much as he had thought; after all he was pretty sure that he had obeyed the first and most important one, was perhaps the only one of his siblings to have honoured it. _Love them_. Because surely the self important assholes currently populating his old home had achieved no such feat, hell he wasn't sure they comprehended the term. At best they tolerated, whereas he had enjoyed many creative and all round enjoyable ways of getting to know his father's creations, albeit perhaps not in the way the decree had been intended. Sometimes he wondered if that was why he had left, not as the others had thought because of Lucifer's defiance, but because of all of their failings, his own included. Perhaps he was just waiting for them to pull their heads out of their asses and realise that this had just been some sort of test. Father had loved his tests, back in the day although no one had ever tried to hammer a stake through _his_ heart for them. Of course they had been all about morality and learning important lessons (apparently). Loki's own personal attention was about lessons as well although admittedly most of his victims failed to live long enough to appreciate them. But that was neither here nor there. And the death was more a side effect than the actual point. The point was about power and arrogance and deserving to get the life tortured out of you. The point when Loki was feeling totally completely vulnerably honest (which was seldom and only after copious amounts of alcohol) was that he was fucking sick of assholes who thought they could get away with anything because there was no one left who cared enough to come down here and do something about it. So he did something himself. And sometimes, when he was unable to hide from the part of him that had waited so hopefully, and was still against all the odds waiting, would in fact probably continue to wait forever, or at least for as long as the status quo was allowed to remain intact, and with the people in charge that might not be all that long, but that departed from the point. The point was that in those most fragile moments he would allow himself to ever so gently flex the wings that were so much a part of his old identity, and contemplate the fact that against all the odds and despite everything he had done to himself to hack the past away, they remained a silent part of him. A reproachful stifled part perhaps, but attached none the less and remarkably unsullied. Despite of everything, and he had tried everything, often more than once, to pass the centuries he had somehow retained his father's grace, even now. The archangel Gabriel could theoretically take flight back to heaven at any point he wished and announce cheerfully that it had been a hell of a party and did anyone know what he had been up to for the last couple of millennia because aside from a couple of highly incriminating photographs (those are like paintings only faster, Mikey...) he had no clue...

Somehow this knowledge made it all worse even as it reassured him. He would not go back, because despite the centuries nothing much had changed, nor would it ever change, not for his own kind. Perhaps that was why he was so brutal when it came to breaking down the natures of the humans unfortunate enough to catch his attention. Because despite his considerable practise when it came to showing human's the error of their ways he remained completely powerless to reach the only beings that had really sincerely mattered to him. And the only power that had stood a chance at such a thing, well he had fled long before Gabriel had ever thought to do so. In fact you could say he started the trend. Perhaps that was why for all his sins Gabriel had not fallen. Perhaps it meant that there was still hope for this world, and for the lot of them. Or perhaps it meant nothing whatsoever. Regardless here he was, and Gabriel, who by far preferred the complicated but oddly simple attitude of Loki was here in the mean time to prove to the select children of earth that there was still someone out there who cared how they spent their lives. Not that they seemed to find the reminder particularly reassuring. But that wasn't really Loki's problem.

And as it seemed like he was going to be here for the foreseeable future it was only logical that he enjoy the moment. If that involved eating copious amounts of chocolate and smiting the shit out of a few people that deserved it, who the hell was left to judge? Noticing the leopard which had apparently grown bold in his distraction, Loki reached down absently to rub at its spotted head. The leopard made a sound that was half way between a growl and a purr.

'Me too kiddo,' he told it.

Still, all that said Loki wasn't planning another spree quite so soon after his last masterpiece. He had been noticed, and not in the appreciative that guy has a swell sense of humour lets buy him a drink way. Something about a dragon appearing out of nowhere and demanding the illegally obtained gold from major politicians on national television seemed to get everyone into an uproar. Even if the dragon was not found and later denounced as a hoax created by enraged victims with good photo shop skills... Still Loki didn't massively mind taking a short vacation.

After all it didn't do to draw too much attention to himself as his flashy preferences had a tendency to do. Too much spotlight and all sorts of unwanted had a tendency to come crawling out of the wormwood and more often than not it would be waving pointy objects.

Besides it was not like he had a time limit. Eternity stretched before him and it carried with it the promise that unless human nature changed drastically, and in his experience it never changed at all, there would be plenty deserving his specific attention over the centuries to come. Sure the occasional human intrigued him and he would meddle in their lives sometimes even benevolently (in his opinion anyway) but there would always be more of those as well. So really there was no hurry. Alcohol was only becoming cheaper, and chocolate more delicious. These were the times to live.

It also gave him a chance to get to know his victims, which was particularly important given that so often they came from unlikely situations. It was these, men and women whose darkness was often carefully masked who made his favoured prey. Oh he would destroy the occasional unfortunate thug but there was so little pleasure in that, and they tended not to appreciate the irony. What he really enjoyed were the ones that got away with it because no one even thought to question them; and because no one in their right mind dared to stand against them. Loki was never in his right mind, it was one of his few redeeming qualities. And how they screamed, how they fell to their knees and begged, these powerful unstoppable forces, when they found themselves face to face with him. No Loki liked this life, and he was not ashamed to admit it. Why would he not when he had anything he could think of, all at the click of his fingers?


End file.
